The Perils of Being a Receptionist
by Snowman1400
Summary: Ginny leaves Harry at home to go on a bussiness trip to scottland and everything changes. Will she stay faithful to her fiance, or will Mark Valone come between them? (i suck at summaries!) Please RR
1. Looking out the Door

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Present Time  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Harry stood at the door with his hands in his pockets. His black hair was falling into his eyes, and I could see the faint outline of the familiar scar on his forehead.  
  
His eyes came up to meet mine, and it was all I could do to keep from crying.  
  
There was such immense sadness, such despair lying behind those black spectacles. Yet he still tried to cover it up.  
  
That was the thing about Harry Potter; he was always trying to hide his emotions. He didn't want other people to feel worse because he couldn't suck it up. Well, it makes it even more terrible for me when he does that.  
  
I can see right through him. That's how close we are. I mean were. I used to always know what he thought, felt, wanted...  
  
His head hangs as he murmurs to the man on my right, "Take care of her, y'hear? If I catch word you've hurt her, Valone, I may have to come up here and kick your ass."  
  
A playful smile plays across his once luscious lips, and I know that while it may seem as if he's only making jokes, he's actually pretty damn serious. And taking into account that it's his job as an Auror to kick peoples' ass professionally...  
  
Mark only lifted up his hand in reassurance and said, "Don't worry about it."  
  
I watched Harry deliberate his next move. He finally moved in quickly to give me a swift peck on the cheek, and whispered, "Bye, Gin. I'll miss you."  
  
Harry stood up and turned to walk down the front steps. The slight spring breeze mussing up his already-messy mop of hair, and his robes billowing out behind him.  
  
Once he reached the driveway, Harry looked back at us, and shouted in a friendly voice, "Good luck, you two."  
  
And with that he was gone.  
  
Mark grabbed my hand and tried to pull me inside. But I wouldn't come. I stood in the doorway, staring at the spot where Harry had just disapparated.  
  
Had I just made the biggest mistake of my life? 


	2. In the Beginning

I stood there, eyes trained on that small patch of asphalt.  
  
My hand gently ran over the spot where Harry left his last goodbye.  
  
I could hear Mark from inside, telling me to get out of the cold.  
  
Then I felt Mark's arms wrap around me as he tried to pull me inside again. It wasn't a friendly embrace. I shook him off and stepped inside the house, closing the door tightly.  
  
Mark was a great guy. But did he love me like Harry did? COULD he ever love me like Harry did?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
I guess it all started about six months ago...  
  
*-*-*-*-  
  
Harry and I had been together for nearly three years. We shared a fashionable apartment in the suburbs of London, and had a small dog named Jack. Harry swore that once we were married, we would move out to the country in search of a large farmhouse in which to raise our children. We didn't have any yet, but it was pretty much inevitable.  
  
He worked as an Auror, and left every morning around eight and returned in time for dinner, which we usually ordered out. I'm not much of a cook. Harry was so nice about it, though. I don't think he really cared that we ate Chinese takeout practically every other night.  
  
My job had much shorter hours, lasting only from about ten in the morning to three. I worked as a receptionist for my father, who had been newly appointed to the head of the Division for Muggle Relations at the Ministry. We'd all been very excited for the promotion, but after McKay took over Fudge's job, it was 'in the bag.'  
  
Either way, Harry was called off at night a lot, usually to deal with evil wizards and the sort. Not that it mattered, because he was such a doll about it and I could really tell he hated being called away from me.  
  
"Sorry, angel, I gotta run," he'd say.  
  
That was his pet name for me. Angel.  
  
I would always ask if he wanted me to stay up and wait for him, and he always said, "No, get your rest. I'll be home soon."  
  
But I always stayed up. And he always knew I would.  
  
Naturally, Harry got a lot of press. For one, he was the top-rated Auror in the country, having caught more evil witches and wizards in his first year than most had caught in their entire careers. For another, he was Harry Potter, and that name carried enough attention from the media to last anyone for a lifetime.  
  
I guess I always felt a little left out. I mean, he made the front page once a month, and I was lucky if my co-workers remembered my name. But Harry always treated me the same, and I loved him for it.  
  
So when the opportunity to go to Scotland on Ministry business came up, I knew I had to take it. Mckay himself came to my office one day, and just said out of the blue, "Hey, Weasley, I need a couple diplomatic-types to go over to Scotland for a couple of months, you know, work out a couple issues, solve a few problems...What do you say?"  
  
Now, I'm a receptionist. Of course, I had been planning on going into politics, but when dad got the new job, I felt obligated to work for him. Help him out, you know.  
  
Anyway, to make a long and boring story short, I took the job. I was going to leave on Sunday night, along with three other workers from the department: Josephine Peterson, Angela Brown, and Mark Valone.  
  
I went home that night to tell Harry, and he was positively ecstatic for me. He knew I had to do this. I had to go and get a little bit of independence, taste the world. Naturally, he was a little sad that I would be gone for so long, but I promised he could visit me, and after a small hint at what kind of gift I would give him upon my return, he nearly begged me to go.  
  
So I packed my bags and he went with me to the Ministry, to see me off. When we arrived at my office to grab a few papers before the trip, he quickly took my trunk and shoulder bag before nearly pulling me over to the large window behind my desk.  
  
I remember the moonlight on his face, which made him look even more stunning than before. He was giving me that insane grin of his, the one where he looks arrogant, pleased, and genuine at the same time. He took my hand in his as he said in a near whisper, "Gin, I have been in love with you for three beautiful years. And I hope you feel the same way."  
  
"Of course I do, Harry," came my reply. Where was he going with this?  
  
His smile only seemed to grow bigger at my last sentence, and he reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small, black velvet box.  
  
I knew what was happening on some level, but it was all so surreal.  
  
"Ginny Weasley, will you marry me?"  
  
Harry Potter had just proposed. To me. We were going to get married.  
  
"Yes!" I squealed as I leaped into his arms, crying from the immense happiness.  
  
Harry laughed and gently grabbed my hand, slipping the diamond onto my finger.  
  
It sparkled in the moonlight, and as my tear-filled eyes looked up at him, I knew that this was one of the happiest moments of my life.  
  
"Thank you," I whispered.  
  
He knew I was thanking him for more than the ring. I was thanking him for everything. I was thanking him for comforting me. I was thanking him for being there for me. But most of all, I was thanking him for loving me. I knew we were perfect for each other. I knew we would be together forever.  
  
I did not know that Mark Valone was about to mess that all up.  
  
Finally, after much hugging, kissing, and an occasional grope, I picked up my luggage and gave him a quick peck on the lips, saying, "Come visit soon."  
  
"Stay in touch," he said in a loving voice as I apparated.  
  
My thoughts were on Harry, and the love we shared. Perhaps it was that that made me lose my concentration while traveling, but either way I took my mind off of my destination and ended up in a very strange position.  
  
No doubt, I had made it to Scotland. But when I finally cleared my head and saw where I was, a deep flush crept up my cheeks as I leaped off of Mark Valone's lap and grabbed my bags.  
  
"Sorry," I murmured, chancing a glance at a very amused Mark. He had been eating dinner with the other two workers who were chosen to come to Scotland when a small redheaded woman had landed in his lap.  
  
"You must be Ginny Weasley," he said in a deep voice, "I'm Mark. Mark Valone."  
  
He held out his sturdy hand, and I shook it professionally.  
  
"Nice to meet you, Mark."  
  
"Same to you, Ginny."  
  
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*  
  
(A/N:  
  
Please review!!! I know it's not clear where I'm going with this, but just stay with me!) 


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